BioShock: Rupture
by Plute22
Summary: Two years after the events of the first BioShock, following Jack's escape from the underwater city of Rapture, a mysterious plane crash in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean grants another young man access to the "haven" beneath the sea. However, their similar entrances are no coincidence, and the new protagonist's role in the story of Rapture will no doubt produce huge consequences.
1. Chapter 1: The Lighthouse

**Author's Note: Before continuing, I would like to ensure that the reader (that is, you) realizes that this story is rated M; explicit language and any themes/content present in BioShock is fair game for this FanFiction. **

**That being said, welcome to BioShock: Rupture! As you will see, the story takes place in 1962, two years after the events of the first BioShock game. Therefore, many old characters, as well as some new ones, will be seen throughout, but this is _not_ a direct narration of the BioShock campaign, even though the introduction may seem fairly similar at first.**

**Unfortunately, I cannot guarantee a steady stream of new chapters on a regular basis, but additions will be made by me whenever possible. Also, events in this FanFiction may not correspond exactly with the game's storyline; nonetheless, I intend to make as few changes as possible to the world of BioShock and only modify it when necessary.**

**Lastly, future Author's Notes will not be nearly as long as this, so if these last few paragraphs have caused you any amount of suffering, take comfort in the fact that it will never happen again. Probably. :)**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

A jolting bit of turbulence shook me out of my brief repose in the plane's soft seat. Glancing through the window adjacent to me, I strained my eyes to see against the darkness. After a moment, the faint outline of water grew discernable. _Still mid-Atlantic_, I thought to myself. Turning back to face forward, I sighed and removed a cigarette from my coat pocket. As I held the lighter to it and watched the flame catch, the man sitting next to me grimaced and looked away. Ignoring his tacit complaint, I puffed a cloud of smoke into the air and replaced my lighter. Being seventeen years old, I hardly understood what troubled him. It was 1962; everyone smoked, even on planes.

This flight was intended to be a long one. From New York, I planned on taking the plane all the way to Germany, where my cousins lived. Summer had just started, and my parents wanted me to stay with them while they vacationed elsewhere. Seems like a terrible deal for me, but I'd been with my cousins a few times before, and they were always very friendly. Plus, home typically sucked in the summertime; no one was ever around to hang out with, so Germany beat staying in New York City alone.

My cigarette had burned down considerably. Taking a final drag, I extinguished it and cast the butt aside. Once again tired, I settled into a more comfortable position in the chair and closed my eyes. Sleep arrived almost immediately….

_Sinking. Sinking. Lower and lower I sank, down from the warm glow of the surface to the depths of the ocean, past the darkness-shrouded floor, lower and lower until nothing remained but a terrible cold that surrounded my whole body. Lower and lower; inky blackness replaced the world as the last bit of air left my lungs. I _was_ the ocean. No feeling except water all around me, dragging me down, pulling my limp and helpless body along. I succumbed to its will, letting it carry me with it, becoming one with its current. Past the middle of the Earth, through the floor on the other side, I was taken. Now rising, up towards light, to salvation! To the surface! To –_

I awoke with a start, admitting the entrance of water into my mouth. Panicked, I flailed around wildly, desperately reaching for air. Tilting my head back, I spotted the light of the real surface not far above me. Puzzled yet terrified, I thrust my arms and legs upward with every bit of strength I could muster. My body felt numb, and my lungs burned from lack of air. Dark spots clouded my vision as I quickly lost strength. The surface grew closer and closer. I clawed the water again. So close! Just as I felt myself losing consciousness, my head broke the surface. Gasping for air, I treaded water lightly as I attempted to regain my breath. The dream was over, I realized, but a new nightmare awaited me in reality. Shaking my head to clear the water from my face, I glanced around for signs of the plane. It wasn't difficult to miss. Huge patches of fire burned atop the wreckage, casting eerie light on the black surface of the water. The once-grand plane now gradually sank to the ocean floor in demolished pieces.

Realizing that there might be some survivors, I began shouting for people. "Hello?" My voice sounded small and feeble, hardly penetrating the roar of the flames. "Anybody out there?" I tried again. No response. I had to face the facts; either no one could hear me, or I was alone. Alone, in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean. My heart sank as I realized I was screwed. I couldn't tread water forever, and no wreckage remained for me to float on. Then, suddenly, I spotted it.

About thirty yards away, a tall tower loomed above me, reaching far into the sky. I hadn't noticed it right away because it blended in with the darkness of the night. It seemed to extend right out of the water, like the support of a bridge, but much thicker. _How could that be?_ I wondered. Examining the base more closely, I noticed a set of stairs leading right down to the water. Perhaps it was only a mirage, but that tower was my only chance at survival. Taking a deep breath, I forced myself to move, demanding my frozen arms to cut through the water. I moved slowly; the swim seemed interminable. Barely conscious, I pushed on, dragging my leaden body through the frigid water. At last, I felt my arm touch metal, and hastily pulled myself up the remaining steps. Once out of the water, I immediately let my body go limp, grateful for the relief that flooded my tired muscles.

After a minute, I slowly rose from my resting place and tried to shake some of the water off my clothes. It was so cold that I could barely move; my teeth chattered violently and I couldn't stop shivering. As I regained some of my composure, I glanced out at the wreckage of the plane. A few fires still raged atop the remaining pieces, but most of the debris had merely descended into the depths of the ocean. A chill not caused by the cold ran down my spine as I recalled the nightmare I had just experienced, and I quickly pushed it out of my mind. There were more important matters to attend to.

Shifting my attention back to the tower on which I now stood, I climbed up the remaining steps easily. This took me to a small landing on which a doorway opened to the interior of the structure and another staircase branched off to the water on the other side. With nowhere else to go, I cautiously stepped through the opening into the darkness on the other side. The door closed behind me with an ominous bang, and I felt my heart naturally begin to beat faster.

Light suddenly flooded the room, revealing a massive statue of a man staring down at me from ahead. A tattered, red banner below it read, in golden letters, "NO GODS OR KINGS. ONLY MAN." Confused, I gazed around some more; I seemed to be standing in a massive, circular chamber, with walkways to my left and right connecting each side of the room. Slow, soothing music began playing from some hidden source, making me wonder who was controlling this tower and from where. Against the railing, below the statue of the man, a small plaque was inscribed with, " 'IN WHAT COUNTRY IS THERE A PLACE FOR PEOPLE LIKE ME?' –ANDREW RYAN". _That must be the name of that man_, I thought. Still not comprehending the big picture of everything, I decided to continue forward, choosing the path on the right. A short walk brought me to another two flights of stairs, which I descended somewhat more rapidly. Now at another branch-off of steps, I again chose the right (not that it mattered; the room was circular, so all the paths met up anyway) and arrived at a large, flat platform. In the middle of this landing, an odd-shaped, spherical mass floated atop a pool of water in the center of the chamber. Walking closer, I realized that it was some type of submarine. The glass door on the front lay open, inviting me in to the luxurious-looking interior. Gingerly, I stepped inside, wary of all possible dangers but exceedingly curious at the same time. The temperature seemed to have increased drastically since I entered the tower, and I no longer shook uncontrollably. Now able to think somewhat more clearly, I quickly took in the details of the small pod. Two benches sat on the left and right, and a place designated for a service radio hung on the wall next to the door; however, said radio was nowhere to be found. Commanding the most attention, though, was a large lever set in the middle of the pod. It practically begged to be pulled, being the only movable object in there. Stepping closer, I squinted to read some faded writing on the base of the lever. Although it remained difficult to discern each letter, I managed to make out "BATHYSPERE TO RAPTURE".


	2. Chapter 2: The Descent

**Author's Note: Apologies for the wait, my time for writing has been short over the past few weeks. Anyway, Chapter 2 brings us to the great descent into Rapture! Personally, this is one of my favorite parts of the first game; I love Ryan's narration on the way down and had to include every bit in here. There is some strong language towards the end of this chapter, so please be warned! And, as usual, enjoy!**

* * *

_Rapture_? I thought. _What the hell is that_? Although numerous questions demanded answers in my head, I felt I had no other choice than to proceed with the single usable mechanism available to me. Gripping the large lever in both hands, I pulled it down and then released the handle, allowing it to snap back into place.

A heavy, clanking sound from behind caused me to whip around, just in time to see the glass door swing shut. Eyes glued to that transparent surface, I merely observed, horrified, as the pod began to _descend_. Sinking steadily into the water below, I was aware only of the sight and noise of bubbles amidst an impenetrable wall of darkness beyond. At least fifteen seconds passed before I noticed a change in light and realized that the pod had exited the interior of a tunnel-like structure and passed into the open sea. However, before I could catch a glimpse of anything beyond, a white backdrop swiftly raised itself over the glass, as if on cue, and music riddled with static filled the pod. Apprehensively, I slowly backed up against the rear of the chamber, but quickly stepped forward again as the first images appeared on the screen.

"FIRE AT YOUR FINGERTIPS! INCINERATE! PLASMIDS BY RYAN INDUSTRIES". Thus read the first picture, presumably an advertisement of some kind, but the meaning, as with everything else, eluded me. A woman held out a cigarette, while the man standing next to her lit it with the tip of his finger. _Is this some type of cartoon_? I wondered. _Maybe "plasmid" is slang for that._

My thoughts were interrupted by the changing of the picture to that of a familiar-looking man sitting upright in a chair. It was the same man depicted by the large statue in the tower above. Another caption read "FROM THE DESK OF RYAN". It struck me that this man must be an important figure, despite the fact that I never heard of him prior to the plane crash.

A pre-recorded voice began playing in unison with the pictures. "I am Andrew Ryan, and I am here to ask you a question. Is a man not entitled to the sweat of his brow?" Here, the screen changed to an image of a farm with an exhausted-looking worker in the foreground. "'No,' says the man in Washington, 'it belongs to the poor.'" A huge eagle was shown chasing after a man, with the American flag waving atop a building behind them. "'No,' says the man in the Vatican, 'it belongs to God.'" Reaching down from the sky, an enormous, extended hand seemed to be commanding the man to give something up. "'No,' says the man in Moscow, 'it belongs to everyone.'" The man now cowered beneath the oppression of a large hammer and sickle. Reverting back to the picture of Ryan at his desk, the voice continued. "I rejected those answers; instead, I chose something different. I chose the impossible! I chose…" The screen blanked and quickly withdrew, revealing what it had been concealing. "_Rapture_!"

Just as the pod rose from the obstruction of some rocks, I immediately doubted my own sanity as I witnessed the most breathtaking phenomenon of that night. A _city_, gigantic, expansive, brightly lit, sat atop the ocean floor! Resembling New York, the towering skyscrapers, some with neon signs on the sides, reached almost dizzying heights, cutting through the water as though it were nothing but air. In shock, I merely stared, dumbfounded, heart racing, as the pod carried me closer and closer. Once again, the voice continued to speak.

"A city where the artist would not fear the censor, where the scientist would not be bound by petty morality, where the great would not be constrained by the small! And with the sweat of your brow, Rapture can become your city as well." I hardly listened anymore and barely noticed when the recording ended. All of my attention was focused on the unreal sight before me. As I advanced further into the city, I realized that large, glass tunnels of varying lengths connected many of the buildings. These odd-looking corridors were almost completely transparent, and, although I caught only a glimpse of it, I felt certain that I saw a _figure_ shuffling along inside one! However, I quickly pushed this thought out of my head; I didn't want to consider how an encounter with the inhabitants would turn out, and besides, I wasn't even in the city yet.

My gaze shifted to some of the signs that I passed by. "FLEET HALL" read one in a bright green, with "PHARAOH"S FORTUNE CASINO" next to it in yellow. I spotted many more but failed to understand what they said, due to missing letters that were unlit.

A series of four, metal rings brought my attention directly in front of the pod. I grew excited as I realized that I was nearing the end of my journey. The underwater vessel positioned itself in the center of the circles and continued moving forward without hesitation. Words lit up on the top of each loop right before I passed through each. "ALL GOOD THINGS" "OF THIS EARTH" "FLOW" "INTO THE CITY". _How quaint_, I thought. _A true visitor's welcome_. My mixed emotions heightened as the pod entered an interior tube and, after moving forward a small amount, paused. Then, with a creak, it began a long ascent upward.

Some time passed before I sensed the pod emerging from the confines of the tube and into a larger area. Slowing down, it gradually drifted up, breaking the surface of the water with a soft dripping sound. Of course, no sky greeted me as it would outside. Instead, I now found myself in an entirely new area.

From what I could see through the wet glass, a short bridge stretched from the pod to the floor on the far side. Filling up the majority of the wall facing me there, large windows reached up to the ceiling that towered high above. Elaborately designed support columns rose around the bridge, obscuring my view of the rest of the chamber.

As if on cue, the pod's door swung open, exposing me to the city of Rapture. Apprehensive, I cautiously stepped forward, out of the comfort of my vessel and into this strange room in a foreign environment. Unsure of where to go or what to do, I merely walked across the bridge, albeit slowly, remaining ever vigilant for signs of danger. At first, I heard no sound except my own labored breathing and the pounding of my heart. However, upon crossing the bridge, a peculiar sound echoed from the right. Turning to face this direction, I observed an equally odd sight that made my skin crawl. Leaning against a mysterious, cylindrical chamber that contained what seemed like green energy glowing inside, with the words "VITA-CHAMBER" written in white letters across the top, a ragged woman sat weeping, her face buried in her filthy hands.

Burning with curiosity, I felt I had no choice but to attempt communication with this woman. "Excuse me," I spoke, my voice turning out raspy and weak. Clearing my throat, I tried again. "Excuse me!" The sobbing ceased and the woman glanced up at me. I was surprised to find that a mask covered the majority of her disfigured features. Bearing resemblance to a cat, it made her appear even more hideous than she would have without it. However, struggling to maintain my composure, I merely continued speaking. "I'm sorry to bother you, it seems you're having a bad day, but it just so happens that I'm having a bad day too. You see, I –"

In a gruesome voice that sent a chill down my spine, the woman interrupted, "Is it someone new?"

Stunned and horrified, I barely managed to reply, "Y-yes, I am new."

Leaping up with a speed and grace that I would not have expected from a body as damaged as hers, the woman grabbed me by the shoulders and hissed. Her putrid breath washed over my face, making me gag. Every instinct I possessed now screamed for me to get away from this monstrosity, to escape her terrifying grasp and _run_.

"I'll bet you have ADAM, don't you, fish?" she asked in the same, penetrating voice.

Mustering up the tiny bit of self-restraint that remained within me, I answered, "W-well, actually, my name is Adam (for that was, indeed, my name), if that's what you mean –"

"DON'T YOU?" the woman screamed, shaking me violently. It was then that I realized she had some sort of claws on her fingers. As she tightened her grip on my arms, I felt the cold metal drawing blood as it penetrated my clothes and skin. Crazed and feral, the woman shouted, "DON'T YOU, YOU LITTLE PIECE OF SHIT! I'LL FUCKING KILL YOU, DO YOU HEAR ME? GOD DAMN IT, I KNOW YOU HAVE IT! DIE!" She thrust me backward, into a pillar, causing me to bash my head against the hard surface. I recoiled sharply, the pain temporarily stunning me, as my new opponent grabbed me once again and slammed me back, over and over, until my vision grew hazy and I felt nauseous. Trying to escape her hold, I desperately moved my own body over to the side, so that when she pushed me the next time, the force sent us both tumbling backwards and away from each other. Now free for a moment, I attempted to stand; however, my dizziness slowed this down, and the woman was on me again in a second.

Grabbing me by the neck this time, she lifted me up off the ground effortlessly, screaming as she did so. Without restraint, the woman squeezed my throat and hammered me in the chest with her fist. Each blow felt as though it shattered a rib, and I would have screamed if she hadn't been constricting my airway. Red spots gathered in my vision as I was deprived of oxygen. It seemed obvious that time was limited. Amidst all the pain, though, I realized that my arms were still free. With this in mind, a stupid but feasible idea suddenly struck me.

As the woman reared back for the next blow, still howling, I swiftly reached into the pocket of my coat and brought out the lighter. Despite the fact that it probably didn't work after my swim in the ocean, I nonetheless flipped up the cap. Before she could react to my quick action, I shoved the lighter right in her face. It was impossible for me to see whether or not the flame caught; the red spots in my vision had almost completely obscured everything around me. However, in response, she yelled, "AAAH! IT BURNS! IT FUCKING BURNS!" I fell to the ground abruptly as she released me and recoiled. Coughing up blood while eagerly drinking in air, I somehow managed to stand up to face my opponent once again. "MY BEAUTIFUL FACE! LOOK WHAT YOU DID TO MY FACE!" Turning, she spat obscenities as she ran back at me, more aggressively than ever, to finish the job. This time, though, I was prepared. As she approached, I brought my arm back and jammed my fist forward just as she reached me. As it connected with her, she flew backward, nearly sailing through the air, and slammed headfirst into the green chamber, leaving a crack in the glass where she hit it. Amazed, I watched as she moaned, then fell silent and slid down to the floor, with a streak of blood tracing her head's path on the chamber door. I had no idea if she lay dead or unconscious, but I was too stunned, exhausted, and throbbing with pain to care. Back home, I never possessed such strength as to pummel a full-grown woman hard enough to knock her back that far. Glancing at my fist, I noticed it was covered in blood, and the intense stinging told me that it was mine. Feeling faint, I sat down in the middle of the floor to catch my breath and recover, all the while never taking my eyes off the victim of my crime.


	3. Chapter 3: Panacea

**Author's Note: This is merely a recovery chapter for the narrator, after the fight scene from the previous part. Lots of description here; enjoy!**

* * *

Pain wracked my stiff body as I rested on the cold, metal floor of the room, sitting helplessly and trying to ease the incessant dizziness that caused me to vomit twice already. At least fifteen minutes had passed since my fight with the woman, and no sign of life emanated from her still body. She lay in the exact same position, eyes blank and staring behind the feline mask she wore over her face, with a pool of blood gathered at the base of the Vita-Chamber beneath the disfigured head.

Moaning, I averted my gaze and tried for what might have been the fourth time to push myself up. However, similar to the previous attempts, an intense throbbing in my head and sharp pain in my chest forced me back down almost immediately. I knew that I had to move and find something with which to fix myself up, but it was impossible for me to stand. Realizing this, I decided on a different approach. While periodically glancing at the body of the woman to ensure that she remained still, I slowly reached out with my right arm and grabbed on to the floor in front of me. Once sure I possessed a firm grip on the cool surface, I began the painstaking process of dragging myself forward, over to the water near the pod. Every fiber of my body felt as though it were on fire, but I managed to endure, continuing to pull myself along. In such a delirious state, I began to believe that my body actually _was_ on fire, and the water would extinguish the flames that now hungrily devoured me. Forward, closer and closer, until my left hand met with nothing but air. Knowing that I now sat at the water's edge, I heaved myself forward with every ounce of strength I could muster; dark spots filled my vision as I started losing consciousness from the intense pain in my chest and head, but upon striking the frigid surface of the water, my mind quickly cleared and I grasped the end of the floor to keep from sinking. Now able to revel in my small accomplishment, I gave my thoughts only to the sensation of the water. Words cannot describe the bliss of allowing that cool, salty liquid to wash over my wounds, carrying the blood and grime away in streaks of dark red across the gentle ripples my splash had created. Closing my eyes, I released my grip on the edge and dipped under the surface entirely, hardly minding the freezing temperature.

A few minutes later, I had managed to clamber back onto solid ground and was lying on the ground, drenched and shivering. The pain had quickly returned, worse than ever, proving my brief moment of relief to be short-lived. Completely drained of energy and devoid of any desire to attempt to move again, I merely closed my eyes and faded into a fitful doze.

Some time passed before I started awake with a gasp. At first, I believed myself to be back on the plane, emerging from what must have been a terrible nightmare. However, the stiffness in my body and the damp clothes that clung to my skin forced me to face reality. Groaning, I rolled over on to my side, trying to loosen up the muscles that refused to cooperate. A certain amount of my strength had returned, and I seized this opportunity to attempt standing up. Pushing out with one hand on the floor and the other on one of the decorative columns next to me, I slowly rose, head spinning and nerves screaming in protest. Although I would have loved to flop back down again, I knew it was necessary to seek some sort of medical equipment if I wanted to regain any of my previous mobility. Therefore, I once again endured the pain as I gradually stood up, trembling violently and clinging desperately to the column for support, now with both hands. Double vision made it difficult to discern much of my surroundings, but I easily recognized the body of the woman, still in her same, limp position against the glowing chamber. Nothing had changed; she had to be dead.

Squinting my eyes and trying to focus on one spot, I examined the room for something to use. At first, nothing jumped out at me. The room appeared fairly barren, with only the columns for decoration. Then, amidst my blurred vision, a small pile of bags came into view next to the Vita-Chamber, and it struck me that this would be a good place to search for some medicine. Letting go of the pillar, I staggered over, finding it easier to move while standing. As I passed the woman, with her blank gaze and terrifying, blackened face, I kept my distance, still imagining that she would leap up at any moment and begin strangling me again. My sore neck was a clear reminder of how realistic that idea was.

Finally, I arrived at the pile of bags, legs shaking but determined to find something useful. Grabbing the nearest one, I unzipped the top and examined the contents. Nothing but cosmetics and a few toiletries. Tossing it aside, I moved on to another, larger case. Clothes and sheets. Growing impatient, I tore through the pile, spending only seconds on each container and throwing them away with increasing violence. About halfway through, a small, square-shaped case caught my eye. Desperate, I snatched it up, dusting it off in the process and revealing its white color with a red cross painted in the middle. The two words "FIRST AID" filled me with an overwhelming joy, and I practically ripped the front off in my haste to access its contents. Once open, I stared at the life-giving instruments it contained, picking up, examining, and replacing each in turn. Antiseptic cream. Bandages. Surgical scissors. Most interesting, though, was a large, hypodermic needle encased in a plastic tube. Labeled on the outside was the single word "PANACEA". Fascinated, I reluctantly replaced the needle and again picked up the bandages and cream. Sinking to the floor, I began applying them to my damaged hand, using the skills that my dad had taught me years ago to fix up the wound properly. Once finished, I again picked up the needle, this time removing the cap as well. The metal tip glistened in the light from the Vita-Chamber, intimidatingly large but inviting all the same. A clear liquid rested inside, deceptively normal-looking. It was a bad idea to inject a needle, especially one with no instructions and no known effects, directly into the blood stream. However, being dangerously eager to eliminate the pain that continuously racked my body, I rolled up the sleeve of my shirt and made a decision which, under different circumstances, would have proven impulsive and careless, albeit possibly fatal. With only a moment of hesitation, I gently inserted the needle into my upper arm, grimacing as it slid past the bone and muscle. When I pressed down the plunger to inject the substance, I immediately lost any apprehension I may have possessed beforehand. A wave of warmth swept up and down my arm as the contents dispersed throughout my body, quickly encompassing every inch of organic material attached to it. I removed the needle disinterestedly, focusing instead on the effects it created inside me. Every time the warmness reached a sore or injured spot, it simply expunged any trace of pain that ever existed there. This was not a high; I had smoked some pretty powerful stuff before and was familiar with most of the hallucinations and false feelings of relief common street drugs created. Rather than just dulling my nerves, it seemed as though the substance had actually _fixed_ the wounds themselves! In partial disbelief, I ripped the bandage off my hand and stared, dumbfounded, at the perfectly smooth skin, unscarred and totally healed. For a moment, I merely sat there in disbelief, gaping in awe at the phenomena that had just taken place. In a haze, I reached up to touch my neck; not a single trace of the painful bruises remained. To be completely sure, I felt my rib cage and discovered no misplaced bones where previously I was sure some had broken.

Just as suddenly as the flood of warmth began, it ended, leaving me cold and damp once again. However, no injuries, sores, or pain persisted anywhere in my body; I was completely healed, within a matter of seconds. Although the process confused me greatly, I decided to hold off on troubling myself further with thoughts about it and instead focused for the first time since arriving in the city on my goals.

First, I needed to find something to defend myself with. If the inhabitants were all as hostile and deranged as that woman, hand-to-hand combat wouldn't get me very far. Now that my vision had cleared, objects were much easier to look at. Shuffling among the remaining bags in the pile, I opened a small backpack that contained a couple full bottles of water, some snack food, and a revolver with a few rounds of spare ammo. Taking a large drink from one of the bottles, I replaced all the contents except for the gun and ammo, which I stuck in my coat pocket for easy use. The firearm was conveniently loaded already, saving me the trouble of doing so. Having shot on a gun range before, I knew how to handle a weapon like the revolver and felt quite reassured by the familiar gleaming metal of the tip and barrel. It was like being a child and having your favorite stuffed animal in a foreign bed; although the surroundings were strange and terrifying, you had that one asset you could count on for confidence.

Once armed, I slung the pack over my shoulders and spotted my old lighter on the ground a few yards away. Walking to it, I bent down and snatched it up, flipping the cap open to see if it still worked. To my amusement, it actually lit. Grinning, I shoved it back into my pocket, proud of that tool which had proved so valuable in helping me escaping death.

Turning around, I once more faced the blank stare of my late attacker. Fear no longer filled me at the site of her lifeless body. Walking up to it, I kicked her with the top of my shoe and then pulled out my gun, aimed directly at her head, and angrily fired a round. The loud, resulting _bang_ resonated off the metal walls of the room, and a puff of smoke drifted up from the tip of my revolver. In a tone of satirical remorse, I commented aloud, "That's for being a bitch."

With nothing else of interest in the room, I started toward the other side to exit and move on. My first goal was complete; I had acquired a weapon. Now, I needed to explore the city and try to find a way back to the surface. When the plane is reported missing, my family and relatives would be forced to accept me as dead, despite me being very much alive and well. I wished to prevent that and get back home. No matter how interesting or captivating the underwater city of Rapture seemed, my main priority would always be to escape.


End file.
